


Spindle

by ShayLaLaLooHoo



Category: Fairy Tales & Related Fandoms, La Belle au bois dormant | Sleeping Beauty - Charles Perrault, Rumpelstilzchen | Rumpelstiltskin (Fairy Tale), Sleeping Beauty (Fairy Tale), Sleeping Beauty - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Fairy Tale Crossover, Fairy Tale Curses, Fairy Tale Retellings, Flower Imagery, Fractured Fairy Tale, Magic, Magic-Users, Non-binary character, Other, Revisionist Fairy Tale, Slow Build, Slow Burn, child through magic, i'm not sure if i pulled it off or not, magical child, prose, the king is a douche because i never liked him, there was an attempt at a fairy tale style of writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-06-24 15:51:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15633846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShayLaLaLooHoo/pseuds/ShayLaLaLooHoo
Summary: Some believed that Aurora's magical connection with the spindle was a blessing, that she never spun because she was wise enough to not tempt greed. However, when she is removed from her home and commanded to spin straw into gold, Aurora must make a deal with a powerful fae in order to save her own life. After all, she cannot risk pricking her finger.In an alternate look at two fairy tales that combines them into one, Rumpelstiltskin is the fairy who cursed Sleeping Beauty, and she takes the place of the miller's daughter.





	Spindle

ONCE UPON A TIME…

…At Aurora’s birth, a jealous fae cursed her. One couldn’t tell if they were a man or a woman, but Aurora’s three fae godmothers couldn’t speak their name, and that meant that the uninvited guest was immeasurably powerful.

Aurora’s first and second godmothers had already granted her charm and intelligence, but the fae was so enraged that they didn’t realize that the third hadn’t yet given her gift. The curse was effective: before the end of her twenty-first birthday, Aurora would prick her finger on the spindle of a spinning wheel and die. Once the curse was set, the third godmother stepped forward.

“Be as that may, I still have my wish to grant,” she declared, and her bell-like voice echoed through the room. “I cannot stop your curse, and your spindle-magic must remain; however, I say that the princess will not die, but will sleep until she is awoken with a true love’s kiss. And, as your curse shall break,” the godmother continued, turning to the other fae, “so shall your pride be broken.”

This kindled the rage of the fae. “Then I swear to do all in my power to prevent the princess from finding true love, so her sleep shall never cease.” But as they’d already cast their spell on Aurora, they could do no more magic upon her and vanished.

In spite of that, Aurora grew healthily and happily, with the elegance and wisdom gifted her. Since the king and queen told Aurora all they knew about her curse, the fae were never needed on the palace grounds, and the events of her birthday were set aside.

However, as time passes, memories fade. No suitors came to seek her hand, knowing of nothing but a spell and the spindle. By the time the story spread from a town to a city to a distant castle, Aurora was no longer believed to be cursed by the spindle, but blessed – so blessed, in fact, that she could even spin straw into gold. It didn’t seem too impossible to some.

\- - -

When the foreign king invaded Aurora’s land, she knew it had to do with the rumors. She’d barely had time to say goodbye to her parents before she went with the king, away from her people for their own safety. She knew, with faltering courage, that she would never see them again, for the king would surely kill her once he learned the truth.

She was only slightly surprised when she was led into a dungeon full of straw. During the two-days march to the king’s lands, she had planned. Of course, her godmothers weren’t powerful enough to accomplish what the king expected, as neither straw nor gold were within their abilities; furthermore, Aurora herself couldn’t even try, lest she tempt her curse. It seemed hopeless, and Aurora began to cry, standing near the spinning wheel. Her tears trailed down her cheeks to land on the spindle’s point.

There was a c _rack_ in the air behind her. “Maiden, why are you crying?”

Startled, Aurora turned to look at her visitor. They were slightly smaller than Aurora, obviously a fae creature, guessing from the unusual brightness of their grass-green eyes. Aurora collected herself, knowing that she must have her wits when dealing with the fae.

“The king wants me to spin this straw into gold before morning,” she said, “but that’s impossible.”

“Not quite impossible,” they stated, standing. “I can spin this straw into gold for you; spindle magic is my specialty. However, there is a cost. What do they call you?”

Aurora knew the power of names, especially around the fae. “I was named for the dawn.”

The fae smiled. “Very well. What else have you to offer?”

“This ring,” Aurora stated. It was simple, but it held her family’s coat of arms. “A token of my former title.”

“That is sufficient,” The Spinner stated, accepting the ring. “You should rest – there is no point in watching.”

If nothing else, Aurora knew the fae were honest. She settled against a pile of straw, lulled to sleep by the whirring of the spinning wheel.

 

When she woke, the king was already there, his servants taking away the spools of gold. Aurora felt relieved; she would have whispered a _thank you_ , but couldn’t risk expressing gratitude to a fae.

“You will spin for me one more night,” The king demanded. “I’ll allow you to rest for today before you continue your work.”

Aurora was given a small meal of bread, broth, and an apple and was left in a locked room. It was bare, and Aurora knew that there was nothing worth trading in that room, as nothing in this kingdom held any value to her. Aurora waited until guards arrived to escort her to the next roomful of straw. Again abandoned, Aurora went to the spinning wheel and allowed her tears to fall on the spindle until the fae arrived. _Crack!_

“Dear lady, do you wish for me to spin all this straw into gold as well?” The Spinner asked, a sharpness to his smile. “What can you pay this time?”

“This necklace,” Aurora said, removing the chain around her neck. It was a gift from her father, passed down from her great-grandmother. “It’s the only physical reminder of my family.”

“That will suffice,” they said, sitting at the wheel. “Go and rest.”

Aurora settled against the straw. “I will be able to rest tomorrow, but this is the only time I have company. May we talk, or will that distract you from your spinning?”

“I’ve never had anyone ask.” The Spinner shrugged and continued their work. “No, I wouldn’t mind. Tell me, do you know why the king needs all this gold?”

“I’m afraid not,” Aurora replied. “Most likely, it’s simple greed. He has already proven himself to be a wealthy and powerful king.”

“Why does the king believe you could accomplish such a task as this?”

Aurora hesitated. Telling one of the fae about her curse might incriminate her godmothers, as well as her identity. “I can’t say.”

“Truly?” The Spinner replied. “Well then, you’re lucky to have known how to summon my kind.”

Aurora nodded. The first time had been an accident, but any spindle was an enchanted object to her, due to the curse. Her tears had gone directly to the fairy realm to one who could help her when she wept. “Yes, I am.”

They continued to talk throughout the night, Aurora choosing her words carefully. She could not thank them, for that was as good as admitted she was indebted to them, nor reveal her name, lest she give this fae the power to bespell her. It was a difficult conversation to carry, yet the gifts of her wit and charm intrigued The Spinner, and they listened intently to what she had to say.

 

When the king saw what she’d done, he nodded, as if satisfied, and his servants took the gold. Aurora held her curtsy, her legs still sore from her journey.

“Tonight, I shall have the grand hall filled with straw,” he declared. “If you are able to spin that into gold, then I shall make you my queen.”

Aurora wanted to protest. “Thank you, my lord,” she said instead.

She again ate in her lonely tower room, but this time her broth had shreds of chicken inside and she was given two small, juicy pears instead of an apple. She tried to think of what she could trade now, as she had nothing of significance on her person. Her dress was stained and tattered, so she wouldn’t even be able to trade any piece of it, no matter how unique to her home the weave was. When she was brought to the grand hall and locked inside, everything had been cleared out to make room for the towers of straw, and a guard was outside each door. Aurora knew that she couldn’t call The Spinner unless she had something to trade, but they would need all the time possible with this much straw. Tears of frustration fell from her chin.

 _Crack!_ Aurora turned, startled. Her tears hadn’t even been near the spindle.

The Spinner leaned back against one of the piles of straw, glancing around the room. “My dear, is the king still not satisfied?

Aurora nodded. “I doubt he ever will be, but you couldn’t spin this. There’s too much, and besides, I have nothing with which to pay you.”

They hummed, pacing around the piles, taking in the towers’ heights. “I work quickly. Perhaps we can find another form of payment?”

Aurora hesitated. That was a risky gamble. “The king has promised to marry me should I prove successful tonight. I will likely have immeasurable riches after tonight.”

“The values of riches are defined by men, and I’m not interested in men’s perceptions,” they said. “No, what my kind require are personal tokens. In one year’s time, when you have married the king, you must give me whatever is most precious to you.”

Aurora considered it. The price would most likely be her crown, or perhaps her throne. Either way, it was replaceable. “I agree to your terms.”

“Done,” The Spinner agreed, sitting to spin. They set to work, the wheel turning so quickly it didn’t make a sound. “So…the king wishes to marry you?”

“I don’t know if he really does, but perhaps it is his way of showing gratitude.”

“Well, perhaps. You are quite pretty and unusually clever. Do you want to marry him?”

Aurora scowled. “Absolutely not, but I see no way out. All I hope is that he will grant me a request, that I no longer be required to spin. I fear his response should he discover the truth of these nights. I hope he believes that such toil would be unseemly for a queen.”

“Do you consider spinning unseemly?” The fae asked, and they sounded almost amused.

“Nay, my mother said it once was her favorite activity,” Aurora recalled sadly. “But it’s the only way I can imagine the king could be convinced.”

The Spinner nodded, keeping their gaze on the wheel. “Perhaps you should rest tonight. Tomorrow may be your wedding day.”

 

All went according to Aurora’s hopes. The king, however grudgingly, granted her request at the witness of his advisor and other members of the court. Aurora felt relieved, and that minute positivity carried her throughout the day of wedding preparations. Maids removed her old clothes and replaced them with garments of the finest purple, embroidered with the golden thread The Spinner had made.

The wedding passed quickly, an unassuming event that confirmed to Aurora just how little the king wanted to marry her, now that she wouldn’t spin. It was no matter, as Aurora knew that not only was she now safe, but her family and kingdom as well. She ruled with her husband to the best of her abilities, gaining the love of the people, and even bore an heir within her twentieth year. The baby was Aurora’s greatest joy, all she could claim as her own.

It had been late one evening when Aurora was soothing her baby, rocking him gently in her arms, when The Spinner came to collect their debt. The _crack!_ of their arrival startled the baby, and he began to cry again. Aurora, recalling the evening of her deal, stood to greet her guest. The baby was soothed into silence, suckling on her finger.

“My dear queen, do you know what your greatest possession is?”

Aurora hesitated; she had tried to pinpoint it over the months but had never come to any conclusions. Her belongings, like everything in the castle, were the king’s, in the end.

“My crown, perhaps,” she finally decided. “As a mark of what I’ve accomplished?”

The Spinner shook their head. “Unfortunately, no. What is most precious to you is the child in your arms.”

Aurora clasped her baby tighter, and he, sensing his mother’s fear, began to cry again. “My child is not a _thing!_ ” She hissed. “He’s a living being!”

“As well as the only thing you value,” they replied and gestured to the baby. “He’s already been marked as mine by magic.”

Aurora looked down at her child. As the baby’s sobs stuttered, he peered up at his mother, seeking comfort. Aurora only saw the summer-green gleaming of The Spinner’s eyes there.

“The child would be safe in my realm,” they whispered. “He would be given a new name so no one could bespell him, and he would be under my protection, as well as that of those who would stand by you. He will be raised in health and safety and live a long, joyful life.”

 “Is there nothing else I can give you?” Aurora asked. “My name? My history!”

The Spinner observed her for a moment, then closed their eyes. “I have long known your name and history. You are the Princess Aurora, blessed by three fae godmothers, and cursed by one –”

“You are that One, aren’t you?” Aurora cut in. “I should have seen it sooner.”

The Spinner remained quiet, settling themself on Aurora’s chair. Aurora stepped away, toward the wall, and cradled the baby closer. Try as she could, she couldn’t help crying, and the baby followed suit.

The Spinner spoke again, their voice gentle. “You have already said that your baby is nothing to possess, and I agree. However…”

“A deal is a deal,” Aurora replied, voice choked with tears.

 “…I am willing to compromise.”

Aurora’s gaze lifted suddenly. Such a thing was unheard of among the fae, and The Spinner had no reason to be merciful. She nodded, perhaps too briskly. “What are your terms?”

“Your godmothers have obviously instructed you in the importance of names, as you were so unwilling to share yours with me. Therefore, if you can guess my name within three days, one for each night we spent together, you may keep your child.”

“Would that not strip you of your power?” Aurora blurted, stress compromising her logic.

“As a powerful fae, my name is rare.” The Spinner stood from the chair, leaving it open for Aurora to take her place again. “My lady, try as you will to guess my name. I will see you in one day’s time.”

 

Aurora spent her first day in the castle gardens, crying over the flowers after which her godmothers had been named, and they came to her aid. However, Aurora knew that they could not freely give her The Spinner’s name, but they guided her as best they could. They searched books about plants, whether local, foreign, or rare; constellations; insects; anything in the natural world. Although Aurora recited names all throughout the night, none were The Spinner’s.

The second day was much the same, Aurora even searching books in different languages, with attendants translating. When Aurora finally revealed her predicament to them, they were surprisingly understanding. One even created a list of human names, reasoning that if The Spinner said their name was rare, they could have likely meant by fae conventions. However, The Spinner shook his head the night long, in spite of Aurora going through all her lists. As the sun rose, Aurora began to cry once again, exhausted from days without sleep; strangely, The Spinner again tried to comfort her, reminding Aurora of their promise to give the child a new name and keep him safe, before they left.

Immediately after they left, at the dawn of the third day, the king confronted Aurora. An attendant had told the king of the situation, perhaps hoping that the urgency would soften the king’s wrath. It was fruitless; she knew how cold her husband could be.

“You had left me little choice!” Aurora exclaimed. “Any sane person would have sought to preserve their life!”

“You believed that you could have fooled me? I surely would have discovered in time!” The king replied. “After all I’ve given you, you dared to take advantage of my mercy?”

“I knew my lie wouldn’t hold,” Aurora admitted. “But it was all I could do. You have shown me no mercy – you had invaded my kingdom, removed me from my home, and forced my subservience! Even still, you have done nothing with the riches I’d obtained for you besides decorate your possessions while your people starve!”

“Say what you will,” the king replied haughtily, “but I will not be fooled. Tonight, you shall be the one humiliated.”

He left Aurora in the baby’s room, and Aurora looked at her child, still sleeping soundly. When the nurses arrived, Aurora explained that she would prefer to care for her son herself that day but allowed them to remain if they so desired. She cared for the baby herself, keeping him perched on her hip or tucked in her arms as she walked through the gardens or read aloud, fruitlessly searching for names she hadn’t tried before.

 

She went to put the child to bed, singing sadly, praying that the child would fall asleep soon. Hopefully he’d sleep through The Spinner’s arrival and wouldn’t notice being removed from his mother. Aurora couldn’t stop gazing at her son’s face as she rocked the cradle.

“Your majesty, I apologize for the interruption,” a servant stated upon entering the room. “The king asks that you come down to the grand hall.”

Aurora nodded. “I’ll be down shortly. You’re excused.”

She opened the window until the draping swayed in the breeze. Leaning over the cradle, Aurora tucked the blanket tighter and pressed a kiss to the baby’s forehead. “Goodbye, my love,” she whispered. “Sleep well.” She closed the door, leaving the baby alone, so no one could witness The Spinner arrive.

When she entered, she noticed that there must have been at least a hundred people more to witness this humiliation than her wedding. In the middle of the hall was a small pile of straw and a spinning wheel.

“My queen,” the king rose from his throne, “I’ve told the court of the gift that caught my attention. I require that you repeat that act for tonight – we’ve been lacking proper entertainment.”

Aurora said nothing, but she stalled. She went to the spinning wheel and searched for flaws in the woodgrain. She sorted through the straw, analyzing each strand and gathering them into bunches. She could sense the judging eyes of the court, their tense silence cut by a _crack!_ from upstairs.

The fae cannot lie, Aurora recalled. If The Spinner swore that her son would be safe, he would be.

With half the court wondering about the noise, and the rest staring dutifully at her, Aurora brushed the straw off her hands and sat at spinning wheel. From upstairs, as they cradled her child, The Spinner felt the curse settling in their chest as Aurora pricked her finger of her own will.

\- - -

The spinning wheel turned, guided by no hand. Aurora was encased in a cradle of vines and sweet-smelling flowers, protected from the King’s wrath. Any who dared to draw near, whether with sword, shear, or axe, was quickly entombed in roses and thorns. Others, however, would approach, suddenly be overtaken with sleep, and woke outside the castle walls to tell their story in a whispered tone. Many tried to reach the sleeping princess, but the bushes quickly overtook them, then the grand hall, then the castle. While her name faded into obscurity, Aurora slept.

The spindle never ceased.

\- - -

One hundred years passed quickly for a fae creature. He passed through the thorns easily, armed only with a small dagger that cut away the vines with one slash. Every so often, he would pause at one of the entombed women, but open seeing their former wickednesses written upon their sunken faces, he passed by, heading where the roses were thicker.

Finally, he approached a patch of roses alone, with no thorns or other bodies in sight. The flowers parted at a touch of his hand, and there, within them, slept Aurora. Neither age nor dust had touched her features as the vines kept her off the floor. The spinning wheel still turned, rickety after all these years, but the boy passed the sleeping princess and rested a hand upon the wheel, stopping it forever.

Finally, unable to wait longer, the boy approached Aurora and pressed a kiss upon her brow, and straightened, holding his breath.

Aurora woke slowly, looking around at the sweet-smelling roses and the boy that stood to the side. She sat up, careful as the vines and roses shifted beneath her into a throne.

“Sweet child,” she said, her voice cracking from years of silence, “could you please step closer?”

The boy obeyed – he was young, looking no older than ten, in foreign dress of purples and greens. He shared her black, coiled hair; his skin was between the dark, warm tones of her own and the milky skin of the king; and his eyes were the bright, grass-green of summer.

Her heart leapt, and she placed her hands upon the boy’s arms. “Are you my son, named after the rowan tree?”

“Yes, mother,” the boy replied, tears thickening his throat. “The Spinner has sent me. It had been one-hundred years…”

Her son silenced when Aurora stood, pulling him into a tight embrace. “I wish I had been able to be with you as you grew.”

“Will you come to the fae realm? The Spinner wants you to come.” The boy reached around to hold her back. “I want you to come with me. Your godmothers are waiting.”

She barely hesitated. “Yes. I’ll stand beside the one who raised you as their own and never part from you again. I swear by my name.”

He smiled at her, glowing with joy, and she took his hand. Together, they walked into the fairy realm where they lived…

HAPPILY EVER AFTER

**Author's Note:**

> Hophornbeam – a deciduous tree found in northeastern regions of North America, especially Ohio. It’s also known as Eastern Hornbeam or Ironwood. (The spinner has a name, I just decided not to use it. There was never a good moment.)  
> Also, the king is a douche because I hate him. What decent guy threatens a girl to do an impossible task on the threat of her life? The miller's daughter should have taken the gold and bailed, living the single life and never having a baby for Rumpel to take.


End file.
